Untraceable

Survival Skill #7

And like a vampire, he will now suck me dry.

Dr. Head’s eyebrows shoot up into perfect arches. He leans in and fixates on my pupils, seemingly excited. “Good, at least you’re finally being honest. Maybe we’re getting somewhere. Let’s go over what we know. I can talk you through it.”

I mumble, “Lucky me.” The walls slowly start to close in around me, forming a tight box. My head pounds and my mouth turns dry. I circle my fingertips on my temples, attempting to push the emerging pain back into my brain. There’s only one small window in the incredibly shrinking room. My only escape.

Outside, a branch scratches a rhythm on the glass pane. I will the tree to break through and set me free.

I need air.

Breathe.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

Dr. Head continues poking his mental probe into my psyche. “After your dad went missing, the police said they found his radio in the Oconaluftee River.”

I fixate on the small square of freedom and suck in enough air to respond, the whole time spinning my bracelet on my wrist. “Doesn’t mean he drowned.”

Dr. Head perches his glasses on the bridge of his nose and reviews his notes. “Lester Martin’s been a park ranger out there for years. He said your dad told him he was going to the river.”

I tug at the collar of my shirt that’s suddenly choking me. Squeezing tighter and tighter. “Doesn’t mean my dad died there.”

“The dog didn’t pick up your dad’s scent anywhere else. Only at the river’s edge.”

I wring my hands together and remember something Dad once said. Don’t lose your cool; it’s harder to get it together than to keep it together. I work hard to steady my voice. “Bear’s not a hound. He’s an old dog. He probably got confused.”

“Your dad wasn’t the best swimmer. He’s admitted that.”

I avoid hyperventilating before I can answer. “He saved people from that river. He wouldn’t drown there. Besides …” My voice trails off as the words stick to my larynx like a dead moth to light. I bite the inside of my cheek, careful not to reveal any information from the stolen file. Information I shouldn’t know.

Dr. Head urges me on. “Besides what?”

I swallow hard and keep my eyes on the glass portal, leading to safety. “Never mind.”

“Do you think you’re getting a little obsessed with this?”

I glare at him. “Don’t you mean, we?”

His face doesn’t move as if it’s frozen in place. No expression. “Grace, I’m trying to help you. I want to know where you think we can go from here.”

My voice comes out sharper than I intended. “I’m sure you’re going to tell us.”

He isn’t bothered by my tone. Totally different than Mom. Dr. Head is more robotic. “I think maybe you should consider letting go a bit. Focus on letting yourself move on. Let yourself try to be happy.”

I choke out one word. “Happy?”

He nods.

My chest hurts, as if someone is sitting on top of me and bouncing. I squeeze my eyes shut as emotions start to bubble beneath my hardened shell. How can I be happy?

I don’t want to cry, but my body doesn’t seem to care what I want anymore. I’m just on the verge of crumbling when the alarm clangs.

Saved by the wacko clock!

I leap out of the chair like a lemur in a tree and clamber for the door. Knowing freedom is waiting for me on the other side. “Time’s up!”

Dr. Head tails me. “So I’ll see you next week?”

Without looking back, I wave over my shoulder and sing out, “Saaaame time. Saaaame place.” I hurl myself down the steps, barely avoiding injury, and burst through the door. I sprint around the corner until I’m out of sight and then stop to lean against the wall, fighting to renew my mental strength.

That was close. Almost bought a one-way ticket to Meltdown City.

I quickly regain my composure and drag my heavy body down the cracked sidewalk toward work. Immediately, people recognize me. Dad’s case has turned us into local celebrities. Only without the red carpets and expensive dresses. A few young girls from school stare with gaping mouths, while a couple other people eye me, searching for an excuse to say something. One couple avoids my gaze all together.

I walk faster down the sidewalk toward work and focus away from the staring eyes. The dilapidated buildings make the town look just like it is – old and poor. The store banners are faded and even missing a few letters. A “for sale” sign hangs on the door of an empty storefront. One shop down, only twenty-three to go. When I pass by the general store, Mr. Fields is standing outside with a short bald man.

He sees me and waves. “Well, hello Grace. How’s … everything?”

I pretend not to notice his awkward pause. “Fine, thanks.” I speed walk past him with my head down to avoid any more questions. What am I supposed to say? People only want to hear the good stuff so they can go on with their day without feeling guilty. Mr. Fields doesn’t ask anything else. He stares up at his sign and continues his conversation with the man I’ve never seen before.

As I turn the corner, Ms. Green, the town’s hairstylist and gossip expert, sets her sights on me like a nuclear missile to its target. Before she reaches me, I veer off the town’s main drag and duck down a side street, taking a shortcut to work. These people don’t get it. Just because they’ve read about my family and missing case in The Smoky Review, doesn’t mean they know me.

At least not the real me.

I’m so deep in thought, I almost don’t notice the footsteps echoing behind me.

In perfect rhythm with mine.

I speed up. They speed up.

I slow down. They slow down.

No doubt about it.

Someone’s following me.